Creep
by livingforfomas
Summary: A songfic inspired by Creep from Radiohead. Draco's a creep and a weirdo who doesn't belong here. Can that be what makes him special?


_Creep_

Draco Malfoy waited patiently at the very edge of Hogwarts.

Yes, the edge- seeing as most of the surrounding land had been blown to bits in the aftermath of a war his world refrained from acknowledging until the very last moment possible.

Coincidentally, this was the very same spot Harry stood while ridding humanity of Voldemort.

_When you were here before, I couldn't look you in the eye. _

The Slytherin gnawed carefully at his bottom lip as he studied the Chosen One being congratulated and thanked. Naturally, he deserved it. He deserved more. But, he would never think to utter those words aloud.

Even if it was _his _wand responsible for this.

_You're just like an angel. _

Light filtered in behind the Savior and although bruised and disheveled, there was something ethereal about him. Like some fallen angel only separated from heaven to save the unworthy graces of a useless lot of simpletons. But, that was the reasoning behind angels, wasn't it? To help the lowly and downtrodden cursed without the ability to fly.

From this angle, though, Draco could only just make out the man's wings.

_You float like a feather- in a beautiful world. _

_I wish I was special. _

Suddenly, a bout of jealousy overcame him as he mused over his rival's complete lack of grace and poise. Surely, if he were the hero, he would look as such. If _anyone _claimed the position Harry currently held, he would do it with some sort of finesse one wouldn't joke about when the papers took hold of the story and photo. He would most likely be this unrelentingly witty star from another galaxy. But, Harry wasn't the sort.

_You're so fucking special. _

In this moment, the Death Eater found he was staring for longer than comfortable or appropriate.

Smirking to himself, he thought, _I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo._

In this sea of gold, silver hardly shined.

_What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here. _

Gulping back a sharp gasp, Draco dug his nails into the mark marring his left arm. Feeling blood, his entirety stilled in reflex. The pain dulled as the thick liquid spilled.

_I don't care if it hurts. I want to have control. I want a perfect body._

So, he scratched and scraped deeper until the pain was enough to send Draco to his knees. He was scarring a scar. His body would never be perfect- if it had ever been to begin with.

_I want a perfect soul._

Surely that was something achievable, wasn't it? The soul could be remade. The soul could be changed. The body could bleed out and die. The soul, however, was a permanent essence, wasn't it? A body's nothing but a vessel holding the soul. And if Draco didn't cease the wound inflictions soon, he'd have no vessel to heal his soul.

Glancing away from the disfigured skin, the Slytherin's eyes rose to Harry's.

In the midst of his torture, he mustn't have heard the Chosen One coming to stand before him. With a twisted face of both relief and exhaustion, Harry knelt at Draco's level- his eyes shifting from grey pools to scarlet puddles.

"Everything all right, Malfoy?" he muttered stoically. His hero's complex obviously forcing the question. "You're bleeding."

And although the laugh was dreadfully hollow, Draco reveled in its sound- not having heard it in some time. "You don't say, Potter. You don't say."

"Would you like me to fix it?"

"I'm sure I can manage," he said too quickly, remembering only a fraction of a second afterwards that he was wandless and currently staring at the man in ownership of his wand.

Harry shrugged and stood back to his full height. Again, the Death Eater felt that too humanly humble feeling of being beneath someone in stature and overall character. He was a savior, after all. Made sense for people to stay at his feet.

Why was he here? There were hundreds of doting fans rallying inside to be in Harry's company. Draco didn't matter. He didn't belong here.

_I want you to notice when I'm not around._

"_You're so fucking special_," he whispered with an airy chuckle. "_I wish I was special_."

"Excuse me?"

The blond forgot his company and the pain spilling against the translucent skin of his arm. Standing defensively, he gritted his teeth in anger and clenched his fists to keep from throwing them into the nearest surface.

Especially if that surface happened to be Harry Potter.

"_I'm a creep! I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here!" _he shouted, not minding his clenched fists and collecting what fabric was left of the Savior's shirt and bunching the clothes in his hands. His cry was desperate and pleading- nothing like the confident breeze it once was. Harry, on the other hand, seemed as calm as a corpse- his eyes dead from the world and most notably from Draco.

_Run, run, run, run, run, _his mind screamed from within. Run, before his thoughts catch up with yours.

Instead, Harry placed something hard against the rapidly rising and falling chest of his enemy. Releasing one clump of fabric, Draco felt for the object and immediately recognized his wand. His glare lowered and he let the wood play between his fingers.

_Why? _

What had he done to earn his magic back?

"I don't know if you belong here or not, Draco. Do what you want. _Whatever makes you happy. Whatever you want_."

And then he walked away, leaving the blond to stare in his wake.

A few meters of space separated the pair before Harry revolved again. "You _are _special, Draco."

The Slytherin blinked and studied his discomfort to judge a sense of reality. Perhaps he _was_ special. Could someone be special and strange at the same time? Did the two go hand in hand anyway?

_Maybe I do belong here. _

And with that thought in mind, Draco pressed forward towards Hogwarts' entrance- a smiling hero holding open the door.

* * *

><p><em>Author's note:<em>

_I wish I could quit you, Drarry. _

_Creep by Radiohead _


End file.
